Compassion
by stormfires
Summary: What if Monica had stayed and comforted Andrew that night at the party, instead of dashing out of the room in disgust and never speaking to him again? How might his life turned out differently? One-shot


Hi all. It's been awhile since I was active in the fanfic kingdom! I loved Chronicle, but it was so sad. In turn, I had this idea for a one-shot that I couldn't get out of my head. And here it is. I hope you enjoy!

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><p>"You're nervous," Monica whispered, as she kissed Andrew softly on the neck. He was positively trembling beneath her, and his hands shook slightly as they fumbled with her shirt.<p>

"I – I'm sorry –" he stammered, "I've – umm, never done this before… I just want… I want to make this good…"

She pulled back slightly, and peeked at his face. He looked almost red as a beet, and there was a thin layer of sweat coating his temple line. Something akin to apprehension flashed in his gaze as he looked at her, but at the same time, desire also swirled in the depth of his blue eyes. Oh yes, he wanted her, but he was nervous as hell. "Hey," she said consolingly, and caressed his jaw with her thumb, "Have you never done this before?"

He swallowed thickly. "Umm," his voice was gruff, almost apologetic, "No – no, I, well… I haven't really… no."

"Why?" she said, and gave him a teasing smile. "You're so cute. Why some girl hasn't snatched you up yet is beyond me."

He gave a nervous laugh. "You – you think I'm cute?"

"Oh yeah." She nodded, and leaned down to give him a soft kiss. "I wouldn't pick you up if I didn't think you were."

"Wow." Andrew blurted. He felt stunned. She was probably the first girl to say that to him.

He looked at the girl perched on top of him. The end of her red hair tickled his skin, and the faint scent of flower and pine seemed to drift from it. Gosh, she was sexy. He couldn't believe that this was happening. He, Andrew Detmer, was about to get it on with a girl. A beautiful girl at that. He would probably not get a chance like this again for a long time. He would die if he screwed this up now.

"You're shy." She gave him a curious smile, "You know, I've seen you around school, Andrew. I've always thought you're really cute. And shy. I have a thing for shy guys."

"You do?" he asked a bit incredulously. Monica always seemed so outgoing. And he had no idea that she noticed him around school.

"Well, shy and talented." She said. "The way you were on the stage tonight… you blew me away, Andrew. I bet nobody in our school could do what you did. You kept your talents so well-hidden before."

"W-well…" Andrew shrugged, unsure of how to tell her that it wasn't exactly there before. "I… I guess I just don't like to show off."

He closed his eyes, when he felt Monica's soft lips on his again. "So what other surprises do you have in store?" she moved her lips to his ear, and he shivered when she gently nibbled at his earlobe. He could barely form a response, when her mouth moved to his throat, and she kissed him below his Adam's apple. It felt so good.

A heady sense of boldness and adrenaline rushed through him. He wanted her. Without a second thought, he flipped both of them over, until she was lying on her back with him hovering on top of her. They stared at each other for a second, before she grinned and pulled his face down to hers.

They made out fervently, lips and tongues moving together in a clumsy dance. Andrew felt himself really getting into it, as he covered her body with his, his left leg shifting until it rested between her thighs. A queasy feeling began to spread in the pit of his stomach, and he tried his best to ignore it and continue to enjoy the moment. He felt Monica's hands on his belt, and he raised his hips off the bed as she unbuckled his belt and worked on his zipper. But his stomach refused to settle down. Instead of the queasiness passing away, it seemed to intensify as the food and the alcohol rumbled together in his abdomen and sent a sharp stab of pain through it. At that moment, he knew he had to pull away.

"Monica –" he gasped, and tried to pull out of her embrace. Oh, god. It was coming out. There was no stopping it. He needed to turn his head away –

"Oh my God!"

Monica's scream pierced the air, as vomit erupted out of him. He couldn't stop it. His world was spinning, and his gut twisted in pain as it tried to expel the alcohol out of his system. He slapped a hand over his mouth, rolled off Monica and made a blind dash for the bathroom next to the bedroom. When he managed to reach it, he collapsed by the toilet and continued to heave into it, until his shoulders shook and nothing more came out.

_Oh my God. Oh my God. No._

Weakly, he reached up and flushed the toilet. He got up on wobbly knees, and walked back to the bedroom in uneven steps. Monica was standing by the bed, her shirt covered in vomit. Her eyes were wide and panicked.

_No. No._

"Monica –" he rasped.

"Oh my god. Andrew. What have you done?" She sounded like she was on the verge of tears.

"I'm so sorry," he felt like crying himself. His head was hurting, it felt as if someone was trying to saw it in half. His pants were pooled around his ankles. He was sure that he couldn't be more humiliated, if he tried. "I'm sorry, Monica. I didn't mean to. I drank so much –"

Suddenly, the sound of the bedroom door creaking open echoed through the room. They both froze. "Andrew?" Steve's voice was on the other side.

"No." Monica whispered.

"Don't come in!" Andrew yelled, and desperately tried to reach down and pull his pants up.

"Oh-ho, having a great time in there, are we bud?" Steve's jovial voice ricocheted through the room, "Getting it on, ma booy!"

Andrew winced. "Shut up, Steve!" he shouted.

A moment of silence followed. All the while, Monica was standing there like a deer in the headlights, staring at Andrew with a look of helplessness that made his guts tighten again.

"Okay, fine, geez," Steve finally answered, "Just kidding, don't get your panties in a twist. Everything okay in there? I heard –"

"Everything's fine!" Andrew managed through gritted teeth. _Oh my God, please just leave me alone._

"Okay. Look, Matt and I are leaving. We're just gonna leave your camera by the door, okay?"

The camera. God, he had almost forgotten about it. "O-okay," he stammered.

He heard the sound of something being placed on the ground by the door. Then, the door clicked shut again, and Steve was gone.

"Monica, I –" Andrew started frantically.

"I can't go out to the party like this!" she nearly wailed, and looked down at her soiled front with a mixture of panic and disgust. "I hate you, Andrew. I hate you!"

He flinched as she brushed past him and stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind her with a bang. He heard the sound of the water running. Disheartened and mortified, he stepped toward the bed again, bracing himself to survey the damage that he's done. Sure enough, he could see trickles of vomit across the white bedspread, but it wasn't as bad as he had feared. He gripped onto the bedspread and pulled it off the bed, bunching it in his fist before chucking it across the room with a suddenly violent vengeance. The bedspread flew across the room until it hit the wall, where it flopped to the ground with a flourish. Andrew crawled onto the bed and buried his face between his knees, silently waiting for Monica to come out and feeling mortification wash over him again and again, stronger with each wave.

When the bathroom door finally clicked open again and footsteps echoed in the bedroom, Andrew couldn't bring himself to look up. He just couldn't. He was terrified that it he did, she would see how swollen and red his eyes were. He waited for her to yell at him some more. Or worse, she'd just storm out of the room and let everyone know what a big fucking loser he was.

Then, he felt her hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, you okay?" she asked.

This got him to look up. He wasn't prepared for the sight that greeted him. She had removed her shirt; her body was clad in her bra and jeans. He couldn't stop his eyes from roving over her. Her skin looked translucently white in the moonlight that streamed through the windows. She looked breathtaking.

Wordlessly, he brought his eyes to meet hers, his heart thundering against his ribs.

"Monica?" he finally uttered.

She sighed. He couldn't help but notice how the curves of her breasts swelled with the movement. "Look." She said, "I was just freaked out for a second. I don't actually hate you."

"You don't?" he echoed.

She shook her head. "No." she plopped down onto the bed next to him, and took in a deep breath. "This was a bad idea anyways. We shouldn't have tried to do this when we're drunk."

"I… I'm so sorry." He said quietly. "Monica, I – I really, really wanted to make this good for you. And I fucked it up."

She surprised him by gently placing a palm on his cheek. Astonished, he ventured a glance into her eyes. He was taken aback at the kindness he found in their depth. The compassion and understanding in them was unmistakable.

"It's okay." She said softly. "Really. But this means you have to make it up to me."

She gave him a faintly playful smile. He stared at her, feeling a rush of love and gratitude toward her. Her words seemed to have soothed his frayed nerves like a cooling balm. "You're amazing." He blurted out.

She laughed a little. "I guess I really like you."

"Well, I will make it up to you, I swear," he said breathlessly. "I… I really like you, too."

"Good." She smiled softly. "Now go strip. You still have some, err… left on your suit."

"Wha – oh," his face burned, when he looked down at his suit, or rather Steve's suit, and realized that it was stained. He hopped off the bed and made a beeline for the bathroom, making a mental note to apologize to Steve later.

He stripped himself of the suit and his shirt, and threw them into a pile in the bathtub where he discovered that Monica's shirt also lay. He stared at his bare torso in the bathroom mirror. A wave of self-consciousness washed over him. He wished he wasn't so scrawny-looking, and that there were more muscles adorning his biceps. He hoped that she wouldn't be turned off by how he looked. Feeling rather morose, he started searching the drawers for a bottle of mouthwash. Luckily, he found one in the second drawer. He rinsed his mouth thoroughly; thankful that at least he didn't have to smell bad.

He cracked the bathroom door open and stepped back into the bedroom. He found Monica lying on the bare mattress, her head propped against the fluffy white pillow. Her red hair fanned out like a ring of fire across the pillow. For a moment, he stood there, feeling his throat constrict and unsure of how to proceed.

"Come here." She opened her arms in invitation.

He didn't need to be told twice. He reached the bed in slow, deliberate strides, and paused as he stood by it, hardly believing the sight of the beautiful girl that was on it and opening her arms to him. Bit by bit, he edged onto the bed and lowered himself onto her, feeling her arms wrap around him as his head came to rest upon her chest.

_This is heaven._

His eyes fluttered shut as their bodies touched and his cheek rubbed across the naked skin of her cleavage. The feeling jolted through him like electricity, and it was fantastic.

"How are you feeling?" she asked gently.

"Much better." He mumbled. "You're so soft."

She chuckled, and he could feel the vibrations of her laughter against him. He smiled, when her fingers stroked through his hair, rubbing across his scalp in a way that left his limbs feeling weak. He hummed inaudibly in pleasure.

"Do you mind if we don't do anything tonight?" she asked quietly, "I'm tired. Let's sleep for awhile."

"I'd like that." His response was barely audible. The day had taken its toll on him, and he couldn't fight the onslaught of fatigue that threatened to pull him under and render him unconscious. The way that she massaged his scalp wasn't helping, either. He hadn't felt this relaxed in a long time. But there was one thing he wanted to ask.

"Monica?"

"Yeah?" she replied softly.

_Did you really notice me before? If you did, why didn't you talk to me? And why are you so nice to me now? You're beautiful, funny, wild and sweet. I wish I had someone like you in my life earlier. If I did, maybe it could have been a hell of a lot more bearable._

"How come you never talked to me before in school?" He mumbled, silently cursing himself for feeling the need to ask a question that could destroy what was a perfectly tranquil moment.

She was silent for a moment. Thankfully, her hand had never stopped stroking his hair. "I don't know," she said, "You always seem to keep to yourself. I wanted to talk to you… but I don't know if it'll seem weird or random."

"Not at all." He shook his head. "I… I just wish I had the courage to talk to you."

Her fingers stroked across the nape of his neck, and traveled down his shoulder blade to his back. She rubbed her palm across his spine in slow, soothing circles. He couldn't stop the contented sigh that escaped him.

"That feels so good," he muttered.

"You're so cute," she said again, and he rolled his eyes at the term of endearment, knowing that she couldn't see it, "Well, I'm glad we talked to each other tonight. You gave me an ice breaker."

He smiled at that. "You're amazing," he murmured, and leaned his face forward until he kissed her throat, like she had done to him earlier, "I'll make it up to you, I swear."

And like that, Andrew Detmer had made another friend in his life. No, more than a friend. He wasn't sure how it happened, since he had screwed up so monumentally. But somehow, she forgave him. Instead of storming out of the room in disgust and never speaking to him again, she understood him, and gave him the comfort that he so desperately needed.

As he savoured her gentle caresses, he felt happiness light up his chest, and he wished he could keep the feeling trapped inside of him and hold onto it forever. He was sure that nothing could match this feeling. Well, except the times that he had come to share with Matt and Steve. But that was different. While he loved hanging out with the guys and sharing their private world together, he never had the chance to appreciate how good it felt to have a girl touch him until now. Not just physically, but his soul, too.

_I'll make it up to you, Monica… you'll see. I want to make you happy, like you've made me..._

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><p>"So you barfed all over her? And she cuddled with you afterwards?" Steve and Matt were looking at Andrew incredulously, their mouths hanging open as Andrew finished recounting his tale, after much badgering from the two guys a couple of days later. They were sitting atop a skyscraper by the edge, their feet dangling in the air as the streets beneath them flashed and buzzed with traffic and city lights.<p>

"Yep." Andrew mumbled, his face feeling rather hot as he still found it somewhat difficult to get over that moment. "Don't tell anyone, though."

"Jesus." Steve shook his head, "This chick must really like you."

"No kidding." Matt concurred. "I heard some people asking her how it was with you. Everyone was curious about it."

Andrew's heart skipped a beat. "Really?" he asked. She hadn't mentioned anything about it to him. Sure, he had guys approach him as well and ask how it was with 'the red-headed chick'. He managed to dodge their questions with nonchalance. The truth was, he had never gotten it on with Monica that night. They slept together the whole night, and he woke up the next morning to find his arms wrapped around her. At that time, someone was banging on the door, prompting them to wake up and get out. And that was pretty much the end of that. Well, he also had to take Steve's suit to the drycleaners, and technically he owed Monica a new shirt.

"Yep." Matt grinned.

"Oh, God." Andrew could scarcely breathe, as he feared what the answer would be. "What did she say?"

"Oh, not much." Steve shook his head, and beamed. "Only that you were the best. She probably shouldn't have said that though. Now I think all the girls want to give you a try."

"Wow." Andrew felt speechless again. Monica never ceased to amaze him. "Well, I don't want to try it with anyone else. I want her." He finally admitted, wondering if he sounded too sappy for his own good.

"Ah, true love." Steve sighed, and exchanged a look with Matt. "Who woulda thought the day that young Andrew would fall in lo-o-ove…"

"Oh, shut it, Steve," Andrew retorted, but without any bite in his voice. "Don't think I don't know the way you feel about that Katie girl…"

Steve's mouth fell open. "Wha – how did you –" he looked to Matt, who was laughing quietly to himself, "Matt! Did you tell him?"

"No man," Matt shook his head and slapped Steve on the back, still chortling, "You've just a lot more transparent than you thought, dude. Now get your acts together and ask her out already, or I will."

"Like hell you will!" Steve growled, and punched Matt on the shoulder. Andrew grinned as he watched the two guys get into a play fight, until they were levitating off the ground and trying to one-up another in their tussle.

"I gotta go," he stood up, momentarily halting the two guy's movements as Steve had put Matt into a headlock, "Date with Monica."

"Ohhh," Steve bit his lower lip and gave Andrew a big, salacious smile, "Bow chicka wow wow. Make sure you get some tonight, dude!"

Before Andrew could response, Matt flung Steve's arm off him, and spun both of them around until he had Steve trapped in a headlock instead.

"Hey! Not fair!" Steve protested, and struggled in Matt's grip, "I was distracted."

"You snooze, you lose." Matt grinned complacently.

Andrew rolled his eyes at the other two's antics, before he waved his hand in goodbye and jumped into the air; the breeze tousled his hair and clothes as he flew away from the building. He needed to go home, shower and get dressed. He wanted to look and smell good for her. He couldn't stop the grin of anticipation from spreading across his face, as he wondered what the night had in store for them. He was taking her to a movie, then an ice cream shop afterwards. To be honest, he didn't really care what they did, as long as he got to spend time with her.

And as long as he got to kiss her, too.

For once in his life, it felt as if things had fallen into place. Everyone at school now looked at him with different eyes; people admired him and wanted to be his friends. He had two best friends by his side who literally shared an out-of-this-world connection with him, and now he had a lovely girl whom he could call his own. His father still hated him, but he couldn't even find it in him to muster up the same level of hatred for the old man as before. He didn't know how he got so lucky. Maybe God finally decided to smile down upon him for once. Everything had happened so fast, and his head still felt like it was spinning as he tried to absorb all of it, and accept the fact that his life had changed now. It had really changed for the better.

He had never felt more at peace with himself, or looked forward to another day as he did now. Everything was going to be alright, and he finally knew what it felt like to be happy. He would never lose himself in self-hatred and rage again, because he knew he was loved.

Everything was going to be alright now.


End file.
